The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman 2)

“Pretty special. I don’t know if anyone could be having a better Christmas than them. Two perfect little peanuts.”

“That is hard to beat.” Rose nodded and smiled.

“Hungry?” Fisher asked when I turned around to look for a place to sit.

“Yeah, I’m kind of starving.”

“Let’s get you fed. Come on.” Laurie took my hand, very Fisher-like of her, and led me to the kitchen.

Fisher stayed in the great room, leaving me with just his mother.

Laurie set out tray after tray of leftovers. “There’s a plate in that cabinet to the left of the sink. I can heat it up in the oven or the microwave. Do you have a preference?”

“Cold,” I said, eagerly dishing food onto my plate.

“No, honey. It’s really no problem. You can’t have cold Christmas dinner.”

“She can.” Fisher appeared in the kitchen after all. “She’s an odd duck. Likes everything cold.”

That wasn’t totally true. I liked my fisherman hot.

And impatient.

And a little dirty.

He swiped his finger through my potatoes as I had done with his Thanksgiving leftovers. I grabbed his wrist before he got his hand to his mouth and I sucked it off his finger.

His eyebrows lifted a fraction as he made a quick glance at his mom. I think I may have made him blush. Typical guy … a little finger sucking sent his mind reeling into inappropriate territory.

“She’s been working, Fisher. I wouldn’t blame her for biting your finger off for attempting to steal her food.” Laurie returned everything to a nice PG rating.

“Mmm … yes. My girl is ferocious.” He playfully kissed me, licking the side of my mouth.

My girl.

I liked being his girl, even if I was a woman. The truth of time still remained unchangeable—I would always be ten years younger than him.

Laurie rolled her eyes at Fisher’s obnoxiousness. “Make sure she gets anything she wants or needs, Fisher. I’m going to sit down,” Laurie said before leaving the kitchen.

“Hear that?” I leaned against the counter and held my plate with one hand while shoveling food down with my other hand. “Anything I want or need. Wanna know what I need?”

Fisher smirked, chest puffed out, chin up. “What?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“A bed,” I said with my mouth full. “I’m so tired it hurts.”

“Oh, baby …” He took my plate from me and pulled me into his body.

I could have fallen asleep right then and there. We stayed another hour, everyone drinking wine, and some crazy cocktail Arnie put together, and opened gifts.

Me?

I didn’t drink a drop, and my gifts from his family sat piled on the floor in front of me. The second I sat on the sofa next to Fisher, I was out, nestled into his side. The next thing I knew, he was gently waking me while everyone stood by the door saying their goodbyes.

His parents gave me hugs goodbye while Fisher put on my coat and guided my feet into my boots like someone would do to a child. I was so tired.

“Keys?” Fisher felt around in my pockets and found my keys. “Who’s driving her car?” he asked Rory and Rose.

“I can drive,” I mumbled.

A chorus of nearly everyone chimed, “No you can’t.”

Rose grabbed my keys and Fisher wrapped his arm around me and helped me to his truck as Arnie followed with the gifts.

“You bringing her home?” Rory asked.

“What do you think?” Fisher replied while I climbed into his truck.

“I think you’re stealing my daughter from me,” she said.

“Then you think right,” Fisher replied after helping me fasten my seat belt.

I didn’t remember the ride home. I sort of remembered Fisher carrying me into his house, but that was a little fuzzy at the time. The next thing I remembered with any clarity was waking in his arms, naked save for my panties and his T-shirt. A warm ray of sun squeezed through a tiny gap in his blinds as I sat up slowly.

“Stay in bed,” he mumbled.

I chuckled, hopping out of bed. “I have to pee.”

“Fine,” he said with a little grumble. “Then come back.”

While I washed my hands, I noticed something different about his closet, but it was too dark to say for sure what it was, so I tiptoed to the entry and turned on the light.

One entire wall was exposed, open to the closet of the guest room.

“Thought you were coming back to bed?” Fisher slid his arm around my waist from behind me while kissing my shoulder.

“What are you doing to your closet?”

“I’m making an access door to the other room.”

“Why?”

He kissed his way to my neck. “Because it’s going to be a nursery.”

I turned slowly, eyes narrowed.

“I’m pregnant,” he said.

“Stop.” I giggled.

“I think it’s yours, but I’m not going to lie … Shane and I had a few drunk nights.”

More giggles as he bent down and picked me up, tossing me over his shoulder and swatting my butt.